


Visiting Rites

by agent_florida



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-26
Updated: 2011-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_florida/pseuds/agent_florida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no good way to tell Sister about what happened during the riot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visiting Rites

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Part 109 of Murderer's Row](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/15339) by violentmedic. 



Grif took a deep breath.  
  
It was visiting day. Sister was here. He didn't particularly want to see her. He didn't particularly want to see anyone, really.  
  
He'd been ignoring everyone. Sarge didn't care. Donut just gave him pitying looks. Caboose wouldn't look at him. Tucker couldn't look at him. And Church... Church was maybe the only other person in this entire prison that could understand, and he wasn't even around. If he wasn't in the infirmary talking to Tucker, he was finding new hiding places around the prison so he could avoid Tex's wrath.  
  
And now Sister was here. And he couldn't just ignore her like he could everyone else. She was his sister, his blood. If anyone deserved to know, it was her.  
  
She was peppy as always. It hurt for him to look at her when she was so incandescently happy. When he sat in front of the Plexiglass window, she didn't even ask him how he was, just launched into catching him up on her life. The kid was doing okay, and she'd found a steady job dancing and bartending. Grif didn't ask where. He had a feeling he didn't want to know.  
  
Only after fifteen straight minutes of running her trap did Sister take a break to catch her breath. "Where's my brother-in-law?"  
  
"He's not coming." It was the first words he'd said in days.  
  
Sister finally picked up on his melancholy; her face fell, and she pressed her hand against the window, leaving an oil smear. "Why? Is he in solitary? Is he in the infirmary?" She gasped. "Does he not want to see me?"  
  
"Kai..." There was no good way to say it, but saying it would make it true. "He's... he... Listen. There was this riot. He got shanked."  
  
"So he's in the infirmary?"  
  
"No, Sis. He... didn't make it."  
  
Her eyes went wide. Then her face crumpled. And for the first time in his life, he actually saw his sister cry in front of him.  
  
He wanted to hug her, to tell her everything was going to be okay, but he couldn't reach her. There was a wall in the way. And if he could admit it, he needed the intervention more than she did. He wanted to leave - he didn't want to see her like this - but he had to ask her just two questions before he left. "Boy or girl?"  
  
She sniffles, wiped her nose on the back of her hand. "It's a girl."  
  
"What are you going to name her?"  
  
"Dexter Richard."  
  
Despite himself, he had to laugh, but the sound came out all wrong. "Don't you think that's a little weird? A girl called Dex?"  
  
"Nah, it's for my brother." Her voice was watery, but she was smiling again. "Both my brothers."  
  
Grif glanced back to the door; North was tapping his foot impatiently, even though there was stil fifteen minutes left of visitation time. "I, uh." He couldn't quite look Sister in the eye. "I'm gonna go."  
  
She just nodded. "Be safe. Take care of yourself."  
  
He couldn't make that promise. He couldn't stay here. He bolted, shoving past North at the door, and even though he'd expected a rebuke or a blow between his shoulders, he just got another one of those looks. He was sick of those looks. If they pitied him, why wouldn't they talk to him?  
  
His cell was empty. No one was in his cell block. It was quiet, and he was alone. So, so alone. Simmons had been then only good thing going for him in this place, and now - now there was no one.  
  
And Simmons shouldn't even have been here with him in the first place. He'd insisted on committing the crime with him, on getting convicted with him, on going to solitary with him. He'd always been there for him, always managed to save him at the last minute. But when it had been Simmons who was in trouble, he couldn't do anything but watch. Watch as the shank slipped into his gut and ripped him open and tore out his intestines and made him bleed -  
  
He couldn't live like this. More to the point, he didn't have to. There was no reason for him to make parole, and there was nothing to live for in this prison. And right now, there was no one to stop him.  
  
The rope was thick, and it scratched the delicate skin of his neck when he slipped the noose over his head. He threaded the tail end between the bars in the cell door, but the lowest place it would rest was the bar ar his waist. He'd just have to sit, then.  
  
With his spine resting between the cold bars of his cell door, he checked the rope one last time. And then, it was the easiest thing to do to hold the rope in his hand and lean forward until he couldn't breathe, choking on his grief and praying for it to be over soon.


End file.
